


Unrequited Love

by irrational



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Girl - Freeform, Love, Sad, School, boy - Freeform, harry - Freeform, hazel - Freeform, teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:47:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrational/pseuds/irrational
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is depressed, broken, shattered. He is everything that he should not be all in one tiny body. He truly can't find it in himself to even smile anymore, much less carry out conversation. Hazel comes along, realizing she is in fact falling for the curly haired boy, and things just get so much more complicated,</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unrequited Love

She fell in love with every shard of the broken boy. The fake smiles and the glazed expression that overtook his emerald eyes whenever somebody spoke to him. The funny thing was, the chartreuse eyes that she spoke of we no longer ever remotely that color, they looked faded – broken down, like the ocean of tears that was constantly visible had eroded the color – his eyes were some washed out forest green color, almost a dark pastel green that fit his newfound personality so well; though this time, not in a good way. 

She watched him carefully when he spoke, his pink lips in a straight line adding no color or emotion to the words. He spoke slowly, filling the gaps between his words with ‘erm’ and ‘uh’. He sounded unsure of himself, like if he said the wrong thing he would give up. She paid special attention to the way he ended each sentence he spoke out loud in class, how he would look down at the indented wood desk. He would stay like that for the rest of class and she swore that he was just letting himself fall deeper into the prominent unhappiness that had overtaken his once innocent and happy mind. By the end of class, his head would be in his arms, sleeves tucked under the folds of his hands. Sometimes a tear or two would be dotted on a page of his notebook that rested under his crossed arms. She had always wondered what he had covered his arms for, usually wearing long sweaters or plaid shirts that barely showed his hands –but then she found out- his sleeve had fallen back one day, most likely accidently, and she saw what looked like hundreds of small lines covering his pale forearms. They were small vertical slices in his heavenly skin, little whispers of sadness and complete helplessness. He pulled the cotton sleeve down, watching at her with a look in his eyes that he could only place as panic. He quickly shook his head, almost begging her not to tell, his bottom lip sucked between his top one in complete worry. 

She nodded, tears forming in her eyes as she collected her things and left. She knew he was broken, depressed, shattered whatever you want to call it; that’s what he was. I was insanely curious as to what caused this disease to take over his innocent mind. Had it been a family issue that had gone on for too long, or maybe he had somebody tell him over and over that he wasn’t worth it and he believed him or her. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

He was known as the happy boy in elementary school. The mop of curls and the crooked grin that never seemed to leave his face, matched with the bright eyes and contented personality – he was invincible, but then again, isn’t that what we all think?

The same day he was sent to the counselor’s office for breaking down in tears during English class. She had been next to him, stealing quick glances at the damaged curly haired boy who was seated to the left of her. She was there, writing her name ‘Hazel’ over and over on the paper out of pure boredom, when he broke down. His body was raking with heavy sobs that were to broken to silence. She tried to help him as his mind overtook his body, but too soon the teacher came and removed the pen from his trembling fingers before she told Hazel to take him down the hall to the office, a worried look coming across her usually calm face. 

She lead Harry down the hallway, her hand on his body, supporting the boy who was nearly sand in her fingers, quickly slipping away into the nothingness that we would all eventually become. “I’m fine.” His voice cracked as he spoke, a rush of tears falling from his broken sentence. The droplets landed on the white tiled floor that so unfortunately reminded her of a hospital. 

Their lamentable and almost dire quiet walked was interrupted by the loud clanging of the bell; signaling that class was ended. Floods of student invaded the previously silent hall, making Harry find her hand quickly and grab it. Her grip upon his clammy and considerably large hand tightened as she weaved them through the sea of people, almost protectively holding him. 

People who passed looked curious as to why this tear-streaked boy was walking around school, but nobody approached us to ask even the smallest of questions about him. Not one person seemed to care about the boy, the curly haired ball of joy who had broken himself so many times he had lost track. Most people looked at us pitifully, and Harry’s eyes remained glued to the ground, biting his lip in an attempt not to show any emotion. 

She touched the handle open the door, her small hand slipping from Harrys. “Please don’t make me go in there.” All over again he sounded like a child on the first day of kindergarten, pleading his mom to take him home from the wretched place. 

“Harry, you need help.” She tried to put those three words together in the most superior sense of the phrase, but there was no way around it. She watched his face fall more if that was even humanly possible. His ocular met hers, the absolute pain and suffering prominent in his washed out eyes; she could see just how hurt he really was, each word that was said to him he took so hard on himself. She could tell by his eyes that he didn’t really feel anymore, he was just numb. He reacted –obviously – but after that, he didn’t really know what to do. 

“Can we just leave please?” his deep voice sounded tired, as though he had said those five words over and over again. She could see him, with his friends –the couple he had since his newfound personality had made most of them leave him – begging them to leave wherever they were, and that killed her. She nodded a bit, backing away from the white door and taking Harrys quivering hand in hers and pulled him through the large double doors of the high school. 

She watched the way he walked slowly next to her, looking around, his eyes were searching and scared and to be honest, she was so worried about him. His fingers tightened around her hand when they crossed the street, making her compare him once again to a small child in my mind. She smiled a bit to myself when he almost tripped over the curb, but the look of disappointment in his eyes when he looked at her made her take it back. He thought he had messed up and he just looked so sad and vaunerable that she could help but pull him into her arms. 

His body was stiff under her embrace, and he seemed shocked I wanted to be that close to him. But soon enough, his arm wrapped around her neck. “I’m so scared Hazel.” For the first time he sounded like he trusted her, his voice attempting to be strong but failing miserably as he spoke. 

“I know you are.” She sucked at giving advice, especially in these situations. So she held him, her small arms wrapped around his broad shoulders. He was tall, so tall she had to stand on her tiptoes to even reach his shoulders but that was all right. He didn’t need therapy; he needed a hug…along with a friend to talk to. She wanted to be something more than friends though, she wanted to be able to hold him constantly and kiss the pink plump lips that were so desperate for some verbal use. She wanted to fix the broken boy, to help him be happy. 

-

They walked down the street, their minds leading them to a place they knew most; the field. 

The two ended up lying in the daisy enclosed field, their heads resting on their bent arms behind their heads. “Is this what loneliness looks like?” Harrys voice rang out from next to me, and I could hear the sadness in his voice as he spoke. 

“It must be Haz, because we’ve been laying here for three hours by ourselves. But we’re lonely, not alone.” I took his hand, squeezing it carefully and I could feel his body move when he nodded. 

“I like you Hazel.” His voice was quiet, almost inaudible when he spoke. And my hear fluttered, my breath caught and I almost choked. 

“I like you too Harry.” My words sounded choked, but I was praying that Harry didn’t notice. 

“Honest?” I sat up and looked over at him, tears pooling in his eyes because he truly believed that I was making this up just to break his heart again, and leave him more shattered than before. I realized that he didn’t care if he cried in front of me, or if he broke down in front of me; and I didn’t care either. He was the kind of boy I would do anything for, I loved him more than anything else in the world; that’s the strongest kind of love. I wanted to be with him, in the most innocent sense of the phrase, and be able to call the curly haired broken boy mine. 

“Honest.” I watched a little crack of a smile appear on his face, his eyes brightening a little bit and there was something in his eyes that I could only place as hope.


End file.
